Christian Symbols Research Articles

Buddhologie Und Christologie: Unterwegs Zu Einer Kol-Laborativen Theologie by John D’Arcy May

Reviewed by: Buddhologie Und Christologie: Unterwegs Zu Einer Kol-Laborativen Theologie by John D’Arcy May Paul F. Knitter BUDDHOLOGIE UND CHRISTOLOGIE: UNTERWEGS ZU EINER KOLLABORATIVEN THEOLOGIE. By John D’Arcy May. Salzburger Theologische Studien: Interkulturell 14. Innsbruck: Tyrolia Verlag, 2014. 159 pp. The brevity of this book belies its ambition and its achievement. May wants to further the cause of what he calls “collaborative theology.” He does so by carefully examining the recently born and ever growing body of Christian-Buddhist interchange and then by showing how this interchange bears the characteristics, especially for Christians, of a collaborative theology. His book is both a review of what has been going on in the Buddhist-Christian conversation over the last fifteen or so years and a signaling of where it is going. May first makes clear what he means by collaborative theology. He does this mainly by marking how it differs from the broadly popular comparative theology. Like the comparativists, collaborative theologians recognize the abiding, sometimes contradictory, differences between the religions, but at the same time they affirm the promise of bringing those differences into conversation (p. 30). There is also agreement as to the symbolic nature of all religious language and the central role that narrative plays in religious teachings. But for May, collaborative theology addresses what he identifies as a certain timidity in comparativists like Francis Clooney and James Fredericks; they offer “rich” comparisons between Christianity and Hinduism or Buddhism, but when it comes to drawing conclusions from these comparisons, they evince a theological “distance” or even “untouchability” (Berührungslosigkeit) (pp. 20, 12). For May, comparative theologians are strong on comparison but fail to deliver on theology. Not so collaborative theology. It seeks, May tells us, to gather the fruits of the dialogical comparison—fruits that will often call for real changes in theology and in the community’s self-understanding (p. 108). One hears echoes of John B. Cobb Jr. from back in the early 1980s when he reminded us that to engage in dialogue is to be called to transformation.1 For May collaboration leads to transformation. And this requires another step that comparative theologians appear hesitant to make—a step beyond the “absolutism” that is contained in the so-called Christian (or Buddhist) exclusivist or inclusivist theologies of religions (p. 29). May’s table of contents reads like a checklist of the complex but rich topics on the Christian-Buddhist agenda: “Trikaya and Trinity,” “Bodhisattva and Christ,” “History, Time, Hope,” “Bodies and Nature,” “Meditation and Prayer.” For each of them, he offers a selective, critical survey of the state of the conversation between Christian and Buddhist scholars. As expected, Christian voices dominate. And May, Christian scholar and long-time (but now retired) director of the Irish School of Ecumenics, is understandably more comfortable in highlighting the transformative possibilities that a collaborative theology offers to Christians rather than for Buddhists. May shows why “a deeper understanding of God should be one of the most fruitful [End Page 245] results of a Buddhist-Christian . . . collaborative theology” (p. 113). The axis of this collaborative dialogue on Ultimacy is the Mahayana teachings on the nondual reality of Emptiness/Form. By laying out how various Christian and Buddhist scholars are using the hermeneutical light of sunyata to challenge, clarify, or deepen Christian language of God as ipsum esse subsistens (subsistent being itself), as uncaused cause, as mystery that is both present and absent, as Love and Spirit, or as the source of a “supernatural existential” in which “grace” pervades “nature” (Rahner), May and the scholars he reviews illumine the nondual depths or potential of such Christian symbols. But he also challenges Buddhists and suggests that they can recognize an implicit affirmation of ongoing creation if they see the analogies between dependent co-origination and the love-energy that Christians call the creative Spirit (pp. 52–53). His efforts to draw similar analogies, however, become complex if not strained when he suggests that the Buddha bodies of the Trikaya doctrine and the persons of the Trinity perform similar mediating roles for encountering transcendence (pp. 38–39). May recognizes the tensions if not contradictions in this collaborative Buddhist Christian conversation about Emptiness...

ИСПОВЕДАЛЬНОСТЬ ДОСТОЕВСКОГО И СОВРЕМЕННЫЙ АМЕРИКАНСКИЙ РОМАН О ПОДРОСТКЕ

American critics have recognized the adolescent novel as a formative subgenre of the national literature since the middle of the 20 th century, and some have found that Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground are as important for it as Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn . However, analysis of J. Salinger’s classic The Catcher in the Rye and Donna Tartt’s recent The Goldfinch shows that The Karamazov Brothers and The Raw Youth (The Adolescent) seem to be even more important for American first-person novels about a young hero as they draw a lot from Dostoevsky’s confessional narratives. The comparison of classic Russian and contemporary American adolescent novels demonstrates parallels in Christian symbolism (Salinger) and urban imagery (Tartt) to reveal the protagonist’s inner self. As in Dostoevsky, confessions in Salinger and Tartt perform both self-analytical and narrative functions. Following Dostoevsky’s model, Salinger and Tartt bring their characters to some reconciliation with the reality thanks to the development of a great theory, or idea. For Salinger’s hero it is a savior-like mission; for Tartt’s it is a discovery of special “middle zone” where he can find both beauty and love. Writing a sincere confession helps both Russian and American adolescents arrive at this relatively peaceful state of mind.

Гирлянда в религиозной живописи Ренессанса.

Many works of Renaissance masters demonstrate close attention to the peculiarities of decor interpretation. Often such compositions depict a garland. The article is dedicated to a number of interpretation features of this insufficiently known detail in religious painting. The magnificent examples of such compositional decisions are typical for the works of Andrea Mantegna (for example, Saint Georges, Galleria dell’Accademia, Venice, Atarpiece from the basilica of San Zeno, Verona, and Madonna of the Victory, Louvre, Paris). Garlands often express masters’ particular passion for the symbolism of fruits. Among those are the compositions of Carlo Crivelli where the glorification of Madonna and Christ is expressed in the language of traditional Christian symbols represented as fruit garlands. There is a remarkable interpretation of a garland in the works of Cosme Tura. In Madonna with the sleeping child (Galleria dell’Accademia, Venice) conventional design of zodiacal constellations in form of golden glow is combined with two realistically painted bunches of grapes and goldfinch, a traditional symbol of Christ’s sufferings. The study of a Renaissance garland shows that decorative at the first glance, this detail preserves the ancient function of glorification of a figure overshadowed by it.

Gallery Chronicle

Gallery Chronicle Leann Davis Alspaugh (bio) The Spanish Journey: El Greco in the National Gallery of Art( November 2, 2014–February 16, 2015) and Washington-Area Collections—A 400th Anniversary Celebration(National Gallery of Art through February 16, 2015). El Greco (1541–1614) knew the value of his work and was not afraid to go to court to prove his point. In 1606, he was embroiled in a court battle disputing the low valuation of his work for the chapel at the Hospital of Charity in Illescas, Spain. True, he had missed the deadline for completion by several months and made some unapproved design changes. In addition, he inserted several recognizable faces dressed in contemporary attire at the edges of the central painting of Mary as the Virgin of Charity. While this practice was not all that unusual, the hospital’s brotherhood rightly pointed out that including leading citizens’ portraits drew attention away from what was supposed to be an image honoring the Virgin. El Greco, however, wished to make an additional point to the court. He lobbied, successfully as it turned out, to avoid paying taxes on his fees, arguing for painting as a liberal art. For the first time in Spain, painting was officially recognized as an art form on a higher plane than the mechanical [End Page 438]or technical arts. The architect Leon Battista Alberti and the painter Masaccio, among others, had already written of art and individuality in the fifteenth century, but that had been in the very heart of Renaissance Italy. While Toledo, where El Greco had been established since 1577, was a social and political center, it was also dominated by the conservative forces of the Catholic Counter-Reformation. By importing this novel view of art to Spain, El Greco spread the idea of painting’s increasingly humanistic role; when he brought this idea to the attention of the court, he established a legal basis for the recognition of originality and artistic creativity. In one stroke, so to speak, El Greco demonstrated that art might represent a patron’s ideas as well as those of the artist. (It also meant, of course, that the artist would be responsible for these ideas.) El Greco’s sense of self worth was not inconsiderable—after all, this was the same man who had approached Pope Pius V in Rome with an offer to paint over Michelangelo’s highly controversial Last Judgment. (The story goes that El Greco ended up fleeing Rome for Toledo when his Roman peers learned of his hubris.) But El Greco’s attempt to establish painting as part of the artes liberales, or arts worthy of free people, contributed to a new understanding of the worth of the individual in the creative process. As we come off of a year of exhibitions marking the 400th anniversary of El Greco’s death, we are reminded not only of his singular influence on modern art, but also his legacy as an artist convinced of the moral certainty of his own creativity. El Greco in the National Gallery and Washington Area Collections: A 400th Anniversary Celebrationcollects eleven El Greco works in a single gallery. It is a rare privilege to be able to see works from almost every period of the artist’s life, including such masterpieces as Laocoönand Saint Martin and the Beggar. In the case of the latter, the exhibition also includes a smaller copy made in El Greco’s workshop, offering an instructive opportunity for comparison. Christ Cleansing the Temple(National Gallery, probably before 1570) is distinctly Venetian in palette and composition and shows the influence of Titian under whom El Greco studied in Venice. El Greco is accomplished but uneven in this ambitious scene, taken from Mark 11:15–17, juggling a densely packed frieze of figures with a complex architectural background and a welter of Christian symbols presented as genre details. El Greco may have chosen this theme because it was uncommon—but still sanctioned by the Council of Trent as a suitable representation of the purification of the church. A multitude of focal points tempts the eye, but the genre details, a trick El Greco picked up...

Semiotic analysis of Ukrainian folk religiosity

Some examples of Ukrainian folk religiosity as an important part of the religious picture of the world and the general megatek of national culture have been studied with the help of the semiotic scientific method. The implications of the synthesis of pagan and Christian symbolism in Ukrainian folk religiosity are analyzed. Symbolic semantics are represented in the annals, church wooden architecture and folklore in the general structure of national folk religiosity.

Object and Apparition: Envisioning the Christian Divine in the Colonial Andes, by Maya Stanfield-Mazzi

Object and Apparition: Envisioning the Christian Divine in the Colonial Andes, by Maya Stanfield-Mazzi. Tucson, The University of Arizona Press, 2013. xv, 241 pp. $50.00 US (cloth). Maya Stanfield-Mazzi examines how new religion was forged through images in the early modem Andes (p. 1). The author divides her book into two parts. Part I focusses on three-dimensional statues in churches, which helped Andeans envision the Christian divine, and Part II on two-dimensional paintings, mostly in private homes for personal devotion. Stanfield-Mazzi uses simple yet elegant prose in the book's seven chapters, introduction, and epilogue. Analyses of fifty black and white illustrations and nine coloured plates add the attractiveness of this well-conceived work. Ample information on pre-Hispanic religious beliefs and customs allows the reader understand the incorporation, acceptance, and modification of Christian symbols, representations, and doctrine. The author contends that if indigenous Andeans were still discouraged from acceding the priesthood [in the late seventeenth-century], as artists they were able participate in the visualization of Christianity (p. 146). The author weaves political, religious, and cultural history into the Andean religious fabric and presents fair and balanced depictions of priests who protected their flock and those who exploited them. Missionaries adopted several strategies inculcate Catholicism. The language barrier hindered the teaching of complex religious principles and no official translation of the catechism appeared in Quechua or Aymara until 1582-83. Political struggles between Dominicans and diocesan priests and between Dominicans and Franciscans further complicated evangelization efforts, though nearly all parties agreed on the importance of destroying pre-Hispanic religious objects, tricks of the devil (p. 10). Missionaries knew that active visualization of the new faith was crucial its success and they adopted several strategies to inspire devotion (p. 12). Successful efforts instruct neophytes began around 1550 when large bultos from Spain arrived in Andean cities populate new Christian churches with naturalistic, polychrome images of Christian deities (p. 59). Visual representations of Catholicism by the hands of Andean artists sparked the creation of a new and independent artistic tradition. Pre-Hispanic Andean traditions contributed the ultimate preeminence of Mary and Christ in artwork and daily devotion. God the Father, the Holy Spirit, and the saints received much less attention by Andean faithful and artists. Christ Crucified, prominently displayed in Cusco's Cathedral, became known as Lord of the Earthquakes after being credited with stopping the tremors on the heels of the devastating earthquake of 1650. A Virgin of the Rosary and a Virgin of the Purification became foci of devotion in Pomata and Copacabana. The Virgin's statue in Pomata was imported from Spain. The Virgin Mary in Copacabana was created by the famed Andean artist Francisco Tito Yupanqui. Both statues were accredited with performing miracles. While Amerindian artists clearly influenced this new artistic tradition, it was not because Spaniards had respect for Amerindians. …

Contaminaciones paganas en la imagen de los primeros emperadores cristianos en la Nueva Roma: el caso de Constantino = Pagan Influences in the Image of the First Christian Emperors in the New Rome: the Case of Constantine

The emperor Constantine designed a new model of the imperial image based upon the incorporation of Christian symbolism and the reusal of traditional Roman and Hellenistic models. This sort of ideological syncretism so characteristic of Late Antiquity —we understand here ‘ideology’ following G. Dumezil— is adopted by the emperor for his own image, as we can see especially in some buildings and monuments of his new capital, Constantinople. In this contribution we aim to review some literary and iconographic sources on this issue, in the particular case of Constantine.

Византийские монеты VI–VII веков: античные влияния и традиции в раннем Средневековье

Some ancient pagan motifs still existed in the 6–7 cc. Byzantine coinage pattern. Part of them were gradually abandoned, the other part was incorporated into Byzantine monetary system and acquired a new Christian meaning. During two short-term rollbacks to paganism ancient iconography traditionally played more profound role in Byzantine provinces, than in the Capital city. This article is focused on comparative analysis of ancient symbols used in the Byzantine coinage. The author comes to conclusion that ancient motifs continued to exist alongside with new Christian symbols in coinage pattern throughout Byzantine early history. However, the ability of Byzantines to properly understand ancient motifs remains a question.

АРХЕТИП І СИМВОЛ У ПОЕЗІЇ ВІРИ ВОВК

The article examines some artistic peculiarities of interpretation of archetypes and symbols in Vira Vovk’s poetry. One of the author’s sources of concept sphere is traditional European culture meta-images, such as Christian symbols. Those are coherently connected with image constants of Ukrainian folk art. These prevailing motifes are the fundamentals of general meta-images structure in Vira Vovk’s poetry; they are markers of the most expressive features of her personal style. The symbols, different by the degree of their generalization, in the light of conceptual analysis have been considered. These symbols determine the main features of theartistic picture of the world in Vira Vovk’s lyric poetry.

Murky Images. The Poetics of Intertextual Dissonance in the Apocryphal Films of Andrei Zviagyntsev

The first two films of Andrei Zvyagintsev, The Return and The Banishment, deserve to be called modern apocrypha, as they methodically and comprehensively utilise elements of Christian symbolism and are part of the non- -canonical dialogue with religious messages. The films are characterised by a multiplicity of thematic plans that are outlined mainly through a variety of intertextual references. Among these relationships, a particular place is occupied by biblical and evangelical references, which are mostly mediated by artistic intertexts (especially paintings). The Russian director entangles the viewer in a subtle play of meanings: he evokes canonical scenes and stories, but distorts symbolic references, multiplying and confusing further interpretive clues. In addition to (completely inconsistent) references to the works of others, intertextual tensions are shown in his work on at least two levels: between different elements or levels of a given film (the function of the photograph motif next to the rest of the film text) and between the various films of Zvyagintsev himself (casting the same actor in both leading roles). The talented successor to Tarkovsky follows the mystery of human fate, eager to capture the metaphysical community of critical experiences. This mystery in the work of Zvyagintsev emerges in a quite obvious way from the eternal truths established in archetypes, in biblical and evangelical wisdom. It is much easier to see it in the fusion of ‛murky imagesʼ than it is to understand.

Gewoon goddelijk

Abstract This article explores the early Christian symbol of theosis or deification for its potential to generate an inspiring, gender-bending, and transformative view of salvation. The idea of theosis or deification (literally: becoming divine) is present in many religious traditions. In early Christianity, it refers to the transformation of human beings effected by Christ and the way they become partakers in the divine life. As Athanasius of Alexandria wrote: ‘God became human so that the human might become God’. In Eastern Orthodoxy, the idea of deification and its corresponding spiritual and ascetic practices obtained a leading role, while, in Protestant theology, it was considered to be more close to the essence of sin. The article makes a case for a feminist-protestant retrieval of deification, not in the least because the concept enables an embodied, progressive, and even cosmic understanding of salvation. After mapping, and taking position within, the disciplinary fields of theology and Genderstudies, the author sets off to discuss the recent ecumenical interest in deification. She then listens to the voices of twentieth-century French/Russian Orthodox women theologians who have engaged with the concept of deification, also in relation to issues of gender and corporeality. Present-day Anglican theologian Sarah Coakley adds to the choir with her intriguing analysis of the ‘messy entanglements’ of sexual desire and the desire for God. Coakley’s plea for a ‘renewed asceticism’ and her reappraisal of ‘sacrifice’ and ‘surrender’ in self-realization, echoing the tradition of theosis, are surprising and edgy contributions to postmodern gender theory. The article concludes with remarks about the relevance of this deification research project for other current debates.

Providence, Anti-Providence, and the Experience of Time in The Shadow-Line

Providence, Anti-Providence, and the Experience of Time in The Shadow-Line Riccardo Capoferro (bio) The style and organization of The Shadow-Line, deceptively conventional, have often drawn critical attention to the ethical dilemmas posed by the protagonist’s first command, and questions of aesthetic epistemology have not seemed particularly relevant: unlike other key works by Conrad, The Shadow-Line does not seem bent on defamiliarizing readers from established narrative patterns. Since the novella’s publication in book form in 1917, however, criticism has devoted a great deal of interest to its ambivalent use of the supernatural, and the focus on theme has implied a more or less explicit focus on genre and narrative perspective. In Cedric Watts’s influential view, for example, a “covert plot” of the novella is a supernatural one, encapsulated in a broader secular plot that suggests how the curse of the captain exists only in a stress-induced misperception (90–99). Watts’s interpretation offers crucial insight into Conrad’s treatment of the supernatural in the novella, demonstrating how The Shadow-Line makes use of the ambivalence of the fantastic to throw into relief the limits of individual perception. At the same time, it suggests that the supernatural plot is also designed to satisfy a residual need for the religious because the novella contains a rich Christian symbolism. Further attention to the use of the supernatural in The Shadow-Line can reveal, however, an even subtler awareness of its conventions. The novella does far more than appropriate, and slightly re-inflect, the devices of nineteenth-century ghost stories. Conrad’s tale of development, moral testing, and ontological doubt adumbrates a reflection on the constraints and power of the aesthetic. It evokes a far-ranging intertextual horizon, thus drawing attention to representations of the supernatural in previous genres and their ethical meanings. The beginnings of this reflection can be found in an essay Conrad wrote more than ten years before The Shadow-Line, “Henry James: An Appreciation” (1905), [End Page 17] which sets forth lasting principles of his approach to narrative. In this short but vibrant praise of James’s fiction, Conrad treats it as a crucial step in the supersession of outworn formal devices such as the comic endings and the artificial denouements that made many Victorian novels pleasant to read: Why the reading public which, as a body, has never laid upon a story-teller the command to be an artist, should demand from him this sham of Divine Omnipotence, is utterly incomprehensible. But so it is; and these solutions are legitimate inasmuch as they satisfy the desire for finality, for which our hearts yearn with a longing greater than the longing for the loaves and fishes of this earth. Perhaps the only true desire of mankind, coming thus to light in its hours of leisure, is to be set at rest. One is never set at rest by Mr. Henry James’s novels. His books end as an episode in life ends. You remain with the sense of the life still going on; and even the subtle presence of the dead is felt in that silence that comes upon the artist-creation when the last word has been read. It is eminently satisfying, but it is not final. Mr. Henry James, great artist and faithful historian, never attempts the impossible. (18–19) Conrad rightly claims that for a long time novelistic plots functioned as simulacra of an absent or waning Providence, with the narrator internalizing the prerogatives of God as a “sham of Divine Omnipotence” catered to the public’s “desire for finality”—this being a key word, as we will see, to understanding The Shadow-Line. Conversely, Conrad values James’s endings because they do not “set” readers “at rest,” resisting closure and implying that a novel’s ending is not a reassuring fiction of metaphysical order. Conrad’s critique targets novelistic plots that had been current in England since at least Henry Fielding, whose providential narrators in Joseph Andrews and Tom Jones, though self-consciously fictional, set the tone for subsequent novels. This assessment, which conceives of fiction as a tool to raise questions and thus make readers “restless,” is consonant...

Ostia in Late Antiquity by Douglas Boin

BOOK REVIEWS 505 examples eschew philosophical discourse, because even Aristotle’s views on the emotions and tragedy are often “extremely narrow” (84n.13). She extracts data chiefly from epic, tragedy,historiography, comedy, and biography. Assertive self-promotional pronouncements often trapped Hellenes and Romans into indefensible situations of their own making. Winged words and physical assaults cannot be unsaid,21 apologies threaten community regard, and third parties willing to arbitrate find little oxygen to attempt repairs. Thus, Fulkerson’s clever title—No Regrets—unintentionally contradicts her argument, since those withoutregrets cannot experience remorse,butthose “bitten” bytheir own mistakes cannot avoid regretting them. Fulkerson opens up the important issue of “framing remorse debates” (214). She has provided path-breaking analyses of ancient moments of this mordant emotion, and other scholars will supplementher pioneering,case-study coverage. DONALD LATEINER Ohio Wesleyan University, dglatein@owu.edu * * * * * OstiainLateAntiquity.ByDOUGLASBOIN.CambridgeandNewYork:Cambridge UniversityPress,2013.Pp.xix+287.Hardcover,$99.00.ISBN978-1-107-024014 . Don’t be fooled by its nondescript title: Ostia in Late Antiquity compellingly, thoughonoccasionunevenly,engagessomeofthemostimportantdebatesinlate antique history—e.g. the third century “crisis,” Christian “triumph” (or Christianization to use a more, or less, neutral synonym), and the fifth-century “collapse”ofthewesternRomanempire—throughtheprismoflateantiqueOstia. While thetitle suggestsa broadoverviewofOstia fromthe thirdto the eighth centuries, Boin presents a series of emblematic vignettes on Ostian material culturalandliterarysourcesinanattempttomodelanewapproachtolateantique religious and urban change. Boin argues that the so-called crisis had much less 21 Livy’s Samnites (9.11.3, cited 173n.44) offer the impossible idea of “rewinding time” and refighting their battle, if the defeated Romans now experience paenitentia for their surrender. BOOK REVIEWS 506 impact on Rome’s port as archaeological and textual sources reveal enduring patterns of classical urban life into the sixth century, a century after the western empire’s “collapse,” and that the entirely contingent process of Christianization was a slow and stuttering process that itself stretched from the fourth to the sixth centuriesas Roman traditional religions longmaintained a robust presence. Part One, “Background”, outlines the theoretical toolkit of the work and sketches the basic contours of late antique Ostia. In chapter one, “New Approaches to daily life in Late Antique Ostia,” Boin signals a commitment to post-processuralarchaeology,socialmemory(orthepersistenceandpowerofthe past in which Roman traditional religions remained vibrant for much longer than expected), and the complexities of identity (which complicates the facile assumption that a ring with Christian symbolism necessarily belonged to a Christian). Chapter two, “The new urban landscape of Rome’s ancient harbor,” orients the reader with a rapid tour of late antique Ostia from the inner harbor to thecoastline(withitscollegia,villas,synagogue,andbaths)totheciviccenterand its surrounding housing stock, demonstrating that Ostia remained dynamic and diverse,attractingpeople ofvariousreligious, social,and economic stripes. Part Two, “Foreground,” proceeds more or less chronologically. Chapter three, “The third century: Roman religions and the long reach of the emperor,” offers analyses of the Round Temple, which Boin argues was a multi-purpose imperial audience hall, domestic and workplace religious installations, and the renovations of the synagogue, now thought to have been founded in the second century. The assembled snapshots demonstrate the ongoing vitality of thirdcentury Ostia,which was little impaired by the supposed third-century“crisis.” After summarizing recent studies on Constantine, Julian, and the anti- “pagan”—anadjectiveBoinrightlycritiques—legislationintheTheodosiancode, Chapterfour,“Thefourthcentury: proudtemplesandresilienttraditions,”tackles the supposedly swift Christianization of the Roman Empire after Constantine’s conversion. Though cities continually “decline,” Ostia’s Capitolium and Forum werecarefullymaintaineddemonstratingthepersistenceandpowerofthe“pagan” past in the late antique present. Also in the fourth century, the synagogue added a kitchen and new architectural decoration, perhaps in response to an increasingly powerful, though internally conflicted, Christian community, whose modest public presence, one intramural church and a handful of extramural martyr basilicas,beliesnarrativesofChristian “triumph.” BOOK REVIEWS 507 Chapter five, “The fifth century: history seen from the spaces in between,” surveysthefifth-century’srambunctiousreligiousdiversityandcompetitionwhen the synagogue took on its most monumental form, the Christian Pianabella basilica employed spolia from the sanctuary of Vulcan, intimating a discontinuity between the classical past and contemporary conceptions of Christian identity, and a stunning statue collection which was displayed in the sanctuary of Magna Mater. This civic diversity was echoed in the Christian community as an intramural church, commonly understood to have...

The Challenge of Ontology of the Multiple to the Theological Thinking

The article states that in the 20th century the transition from the one to the multiple took place in the fields of conceptions of politics, science, art and love. This change in the consciousness in the second half of the 20th century determined the occurrence of the ontology of the multiple that challenged the concept of God as monarch, identified with the one. F. Nietzsche’s statement “God is dead” means the death of God as a monarch. In our epoch the image of God will be vital only when the ontology of the multiple be considered in its creation. The conception of God, in view of the multiple, is the conception of God as a network of hyperplays. The Holy Trinity, a symbol of Christianity, corresponds to the concept of the multiple in God and is a testimony of the focus of the western societies to the political, social and ethnical multiple. Keywords: one, multiple, God, monarch, hyperplays. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.15823/zz.2014.022

Early Christianity in East Africa and Red Sea/Indian Ocean Commerce

The ancient East African kingdom of Aksum gradually adopted Christianity from the early- to mid-fourth-century reign of Ezana onwards. The well-known narrative of the late Roman church-historian Rufinus relates a top-down process of conversion, starting with the ruler himself. The report, corroborated by the adoption of Christian symbolism on Ezana’s late coinage, and monotheistic as well as overtly Christian references in royal inscriptions, is generally considered trustworthy. While not challenging the significance of charismatic and powerful individuals, this article argues that Christianity was present in the region before Ezana, and that the introduction of Christianity should be situated within the context of early Red Sea/Indian Ocean commerce. Trade was the carrier of ideological impulses from communities in the Indian Ocean and Mediterranean worlds and created the social infrastructure that expatriate believers, early converts, and later, church officials and local elites could draw upon.

Jews in Soviet Cinema: The Film Commissar by Aleksandr Askol’dov

The article analyzes the film Commissar (1967) by screenwriter and director Aleksandr Askol’dov. This is a unique film on a Jewish theme for the Soviet screen, which discusses Russian-Jewish relations during the civil war. Although it shows these relations in a completely benevolent light, and a Jewish family helps a pregnant Russian Commissar Klavdiia Vavilova, the movie was banned for over twenty years. Askol’dov demonstrated his personal courage in producing a Jewish themed movie in the hostile atmosphere of state antisemitism in the Soviet Union. However, we should admit that his knowledge about Jews and Jewish life was rather limited. As a devout Orthodox Christian, Askol’dov used many Christian symbols in showing Jewish life, and he depicted the Jewish characters in the movie using stereotypes from Russian literature and culture. The movie acquired a second life during Perestroika, when films that had been shelved for many years were released for the public. In spite of its limited comprehension of Jewish life, the film received recognition due to its humanistic message, the strong performances of the popular Soviet actors, and the artistic camerawork.

What Makes Architecture “Sacred”?

DISCUSSIONS OF often revolve around the concept of beauty and its theological dimension. However, in the context of modernity, the question of beauty has been reduced to a subjective judgment, on which one can reason only to a limited extent. For those who do not share the presuppositions of the classical philosophical tradition, the concept of beauty is elusive. (1) When it comes to architecture, it will not carry us very far. We may not think Renzo Piano's of St. Pius of Pietrelcina in San Giovanni Rotondo works as a (figure 1), but how do we respond to someone who finds its architectural forms, or the space it creates for the assembly, beautiful? For these reasons I propose another concept I believe will provide us with clearer categories for in the service of the Church's mission: the concept of the A reflection on the also seems timely, because we customarily speak of sacred architecture, art, or music, without giving an account of what this attribute means. And yet for more than half a century theologians in the Catholic tradition have contested the Christian concept of the sacred. Ideas have consequences, and it seems evident to me these theological positions are manifest in a style of buildings dedicated for worship fail to express the and hence are not adequate for the celebration of the liturgy. As a starting point for my argument, I should like to draw on the reflections of two well-known architects who designed important buildings in the recent past. 1. Ideas of the Sacred in Contemporary Architecture MASSIMILIANO FUKSAS: THERE IS NO SACRED ARCHITECTURE The internationally renowned Italian architect Massimiliano Fuksas, in collaboration with his wife, Doriana Mandrelli, completed the of San Paolo in Foligno, Umbria, in 2009. This is one of the pilot projects (progetti pilota) of the Italian Bishops' Conference and has attracted much attention and controversy. In a long interview given in April 2009, Fuksas discusses the ideas guided him in this project. (2) As he makes clear at the beginning of the conversation, he does not believe that you can do architecture; what is possible is architecture tends to spirituality. (3) This spirituality is diffusely articulated, above all with reference to the category of light, not only as an architectural element but also as a philosophical idea. For Fuksas the relationship of a building with its exterior environment is of key importance. The particular character of a is expressed in the fact it stands out. Fuksas observes most contemporary constructions, either for housing or other functional purposes, create urban spaces lack a center or point of reference. With his in Foligno, the architect wants to return to a structure is no longer horizontal, a structure that, interestingly, he associates with the Second Vatican Council, and he sees in his accent on the height of the building a reference to Gothic architecture. In the at Foligno, this vertical dimension is in fact a striking feature is realised by the sheer height of the interior space (figure 2). (4) Particular attention is given to the facade and the entrance to the church. Fuksas rejects the practices of the church of the Counter-Reformation, which he sees exemplified in the Church of the Gesu in Rome: enter after being attracted by a great staircase, a great facade, by the dynamism, by the majesty of the facade and by [its] great power. You enter because it is an act of faith. Once you enter inside, you understand this faith is something extremely complex (figure 3). (5) Fuksas's own concept of the facade could not be more different: in extreme abstraction, it presents itself as one side of the cube is the shape of the building, in plain concrete and without any ornamentation or prominent Christian symbolism. …

Veils, Crucifixes and the Public Sphere: What Kind of Secularism? Rethinking Neutrality in a Post-secular Europe

The Lautsi case in Italy attracted widespread attention in Europe and beyond. Though the issue under contention was a Christian symbol, the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) judgements showed changes in assessment both about religion (in contrast with former cases regarding Muslim veils) and secularism (which did not have the same meaning for everyone). In light of those rulings, this paper reflects on the concepts of neutrality and secularism and their normative implications for European citizens in terms of belonging, solidarity and cohesion. An open and plural public sphere, in which intercultural exchange can flourish, is crucial if Europe is serious about the integration of its immigrants, many of whom possess a Muslim background. A ‘post-secular’ Europe may have to reconsider long-held stereotypes about religion and nuance its self-understanding as ‘secular’, in a way that religious citizens can identify with Europe too. The discussion will draw on the ideas of Taylor, Casanova, Habermas, Weiler and Beck to illustrate some of the political, ethical and theoretical complexities of the Lautsi case, specifically issues to do with neutrality, secularism and the role of religion in the public sphere.

The Snake in the Tree in Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri’s Epistle of Forgiveness: Critical Essay and Translation

Abstract This study first proposes to interpret the opening passages of Abū al-ʿAlāʾ al-Maʿarrī’s (363-449/973-1058) Risālat al-Ghufrān (Epistle of Forgiveness) in terms of the mythic, lexic and ludic elements that make up the substance of what is essentially a non-narrative discourse. The study argues that al-Maʿarrī uses his parodic “heavenly garden” as a “ludic space” in which his self-righteous protagonist and addressee, Ibn al-Qāriḥ, as well as his (presumed) reader, is tested with riddles, both verbal and conceptual. Ibn al-Qāriḥ fails in what I claim to be a parody of a rite of initiation (a literary counterpart to the Prophet Muḥammad’s Night Journey and Ascension): he is constantly surprised and dumbfounded by God’s mercy. This study argues that the opening passages, which play on names, epithets and lexical items relating to the snake, the snake in the tree, the black core of the heart, and related symbols of the soul and immortality are ultimately grounded in the shared Mesopotamian-Mediterranean symbolic matrix. It argues that the bivalent image of the snake as a source of longevity and of death, of deception and of veracity, is found in the interwoven Christian symbolism of Eve, the serpent, the tree of life, the Virgin Mary, Christ and the tree of the Cross. Second, it offers an annotated translation of the opening passages of al-Maʿarrī’s Risālat al-Ghufrān.

Mysticism in the Middle: The Mandorla as Interpretive Tool for Reading Meister Eckhart

Mysticism in the Middle: The Mandorla as Interpretive Tool for Reading Meister Eckhart Jeffrey Cooper (bio) The spirituality of Meister Eckhart (1260–1328) is fundamentally chiaroscuro in form and expression. This word, coming from the world of art, represents in itself the collision of clarity and brightness (chiaro) with obscurity and darkness (oscuro). In one single word we have two opposites existing side-by-side creating a tension out of which arises the transformative interplay between darkness and light. The word, chiaroscuro, therefore is also an example of a language mandorla. This is another word arising from the world of art, but in this case specifically from the world of religious art and architecture. The mandorla is the almond-shaped space that results in the overlap of two complete circles.1 It represents a middle, or in-between, space where opposites collide and “conflict-without-resolution” and arises as the “direct experience of God.”2 Meister Eckhart is both a master of the chiaroscuro and the mandorla. His spiritual art, founded on incarnatio continua, issues forth in both structure and expression through the on-going interplay between human and divine often represented in his works by the relationship between darkness and light. In this essay then I will seek to demonstrate how the mandorla can serve as an interpretive tool for reading the chiaroscuro language art of Meister Eckhart. In doing so I hope to provide readers today with a means to grapple with, and more deeply appreciate, the German Dominican’s mysticism in and of the middle. First, though, a word from the middle space. Reading from the Middle In order to honor the self-implicating nature of my own academic discipline of Christian Spirituality, as well as my own pedagogical goal of always bringing into relationship the theoretical-conceptual and the experiential, I must locate myself here as a man in the middle. At midlife I have found my own sense of “self” suddenly revealed as liminal. My own lived experience is teaching me that the primary paradox that haunts the heart of the journey through midlife is the chiaroscuro collision between limitation (darkness) and limitlessness (light).3 One discovers with age the reality of limitation, but yet, if attentive, one also experiences the expansiveness of a limitlessness that appears as well. When the two collide the experience provides an existential shock that shatters [End Page 1] the illusion of any sense of self as fixed and final, revealing it instead as a fluid entity at play between opposites. Midlife, where the first half and the second half of life collide, is in itself a mandorlic experience, and it has provided me a lived experience of faith that has shaped the lens by which I have been reading Eckhart over the last decade from age 40 to the edge of 50. So for me this lived experience of the liminality that results from the interpenetration of limitation and limitlessness, along with the symbol of the mandorla itself, provides an entrée into Eckhart’s thought. Reading Eckhart from the middle I believe offers unique insight into the structure, content and articulation of his spiritual thought. Now then in order to begin exploring Eckhart’s mysticism in the middle, it is first necessary to more fully explore the mandorla. Click for larger view View full resolution Sad Girl © Photographer NL The Mandorla and the Middle Space In Italian mandorla simply means almond. Therefore, as mentioned above, the mandorla is the almond-shaped middle space created both visually and verbally when two complete, opposing circles or ideas overlap. Perhaps the most well-known mandorla is that of the ancient Christian symbol, the ichthys, or in popular parlance: the Jesus fish. The ichthys is the mandorlic symbol, used by the early Christian community, to express the incarnational reality of Jesus as both fully human and fully divine.4 According to Jungian psychologist, Robert Johnson, this almond-shaped middle space is where opposites meet and conflict-without-resolution occurs as the direct experience of God.5 In terms of the spiritual journey at midlife, in particular, “th[is] middle space is a [End Page 2] mandorla.”6 Midlife is rife with...